


an escape (for me and for you)

by gwenoakley



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But He Gets Better, Cuddling & Snuggling, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Jack Kline, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 14, Wholesome, dean isn't good at this parenting thing, dean winchester and jack kline - Freeform, jack is family and you will not change my mind, last week's episode destroyed me so i needed some wholesomeness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 10:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18589618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenoakley/pseuds/gwenoakley
Summary: Years ago, when they first moved into the bunker, Dean found a small wooded area out back on a hill overlooking Lebanon, and he secretly went out and got a hammock to hang up. He comes out here sometimes in the early morning to watch the sunrise and think - he relishes in the silence that’s so hard to come by in the bunker nowadays - then sneaks back inside before anyone else realizes he’s left at all.





	an escape (for me and for you)

Sam and Cas left a couple of days ago to tackle a case up north, leaving Dean and Jack alone in the bunker. It’s been pretty uneventful so far - just doing research and generally keeping to themselves. It’s not like they’re at odds anymore, but Dean still feels awkward when it’s just them. They stay in the war room together when they’re doing research, but on opposite sides of the table, and Jack usually has his headphones on when they do. When they order dinner, they share a few comments about whatever they can think of but quickly fall back into silence. Dean hates the fact that he’s still stuck in this uncomfortable spot with Jack, but he doesn’t know how to change it. Even though his relationship with the kid has grown from when he was threatening to kill him, Sam is still so much better at this than he is, and with him and Castiel gone, he’s completely lost with how to bond with Jack.

So he just does his own thing.

—

Years ago, when they first moved into the bunker, Dean found a small wooded area out back on a hill overlooking Lebanon, and he secretly went out and got a hammock to hang up. He comes out here sometimes in the early morning to watch the sunrise and think - he relishes in the silence that’s so hard to come by in the bunker nowadays - then sneaks back inside before anyone else realizes he’s left at all. It’s stayed as just his own since he set it up, and he wants it to stay that way. As much as he loves his family, it’s been so long since he’s had something that was just his. After Michael, after Lucifer, after everything they’ve been through, he needs this.

So when Dean spends an entire night tossing and turning, unable to get any sleep, he waits until his clock reads 6:00 AM and then throws on his old sweatshirt, heading outside to lay in the hammock for awhile. Jack crashed hard last night, so Dean knows he’ll be asleep for a few hours more, giving him the time he needs to be alone. 

So he sneaks out the front door, gritting his teeth against the sudden chill that bites against his bare skin. It’s April, just starting to warm up, but it’s still cold this early in the morning, especially before the sun is up, and he thanks Chuck he remembered to grab his sweatshirt. He pulls the sleeves down over his hands and heads across the dewey hill to his spot.

The hammock is covered in a light sheen of moisture and he wipes most of it off with his sleeve before laying down. The darkness is just beginning to fade into the upcoming sunrise and he can’t see much, but that’s okay. He climbs in, leans all the way back and sighs, his eyes slipping shut.

When he opens them again, the sky is a beautiful mix of yellow, pink and purple and he smiles. Lebanon truly has the best sunrises, and he’s seen them from all over the country. Maybe they’re better here since it’s where his home is. Either way, they take his breath away every time. 

“Dean?”

A small, timid voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he turns around to see Jack, still in his pajamas (the Avengers ones Sam got him for Christmas), his head down. “Hey, kid,” Dean says, his voice still rough from sleep. “How’d you find me?” The hammock isn’t too far from the bunker, but it’s hidden - it’s not something you’d easily be able to spot if you didn’t know it was there.

Jack shrugs, still avoiding his eyes. “I come out here sometimes to calm down,” he says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you used this, too.”

“You knew this was out here?” Dean asks.

“I found it a few months ago. I thought someone went camping and forgot it or something.” A second passes, and then it hits him. “Wait, did you put this out here?”

Dean snorts. Nice job, Sherlock. “Years ago,” he admits, biting back the sarcastic remark. “When we first moved in here. I needed a place that was just mine… just for some peace and quiet.”

“Oh.” Jack swallows hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop using it.” He turns around, about to head back into the bunker, and Dean sighs, shaking his head. He won’t ban the kid from this little area if he uses it sometimes to calm down - the same reason he made it in the first place. It’s not like they’ll use it together or anything.

“No, Jack,” he calls, and the kid freezes. “It’s alright. Just don’t tell anyone else about this.”

“Okay.” Jack’s voice is barely audible, and Dean sighs again. His pajamas don’t look terribly warm and he looks so nervous, hands shaking. Something must’ve happened, and he’s not gonna just turn away when he’s obviously hurt.

“C’mere, kid,” he says, trying - and failing - to make room in the hammock. Jack’s head snaps up, eyes wide like he can’t believe what Dean is offering, like he’s scared to trust him. The thought makes Dean’s chest ache. “Get in here. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Slowly, Jack steps forward and hesitates right in front of him, his fingers just grazing the hammock. “There’s… there’s not enough room,” he rasps.

“Sure there is,” Dean says, trying to sound lighthearted. “This thing is bigger than it looks, I promise you. Just lay down.”

And he does, awkwardly climbing in, trying not to tip the hammock over in the process. Dean flinches as Jack’s bony knee slams into his thigh but stays silent as the kid tries to figure out how to get comfortable. It takes a few minutes, but finally Jack gets all the way in and curls up on Dean’s chest like a kitten. He tucks his head under Dean’s chin and sighs shakily, his fingertips snagging at the hem of his sweatshirt.

Dean freezes. For the past three days they’ve barely been talking at all, and even when it’s not just them, they don’t have this kind of relationship. Something must be really wrong for Jack to come to him like this, even if there’s no one else for him to go to. But this isn’t Dean’s strong suit - the physical affection and the deep conversations and the “fatherly” thing that Sam’s gotten so good at in less than two years. How is he supposed to handle this?

“Um…” He clears his throat and puts his hand on the kid’s back. “You alright?”

God, he’s really not good at this.

When Jack doesn’t respond, Dean starts to put the pieces together. “You had a nightmare,” he says quietly. Because of course he did. The early-morning escape, the shakiness, the way he’s clinging to Dean like he’s scared to let go. The kid doesn’t respond, but Dean knows he’s right - he just doesn’t know the details, and he’s not sure if he should press him to find out or let him calm down first.

There’s a slight movement against his chest, and then a small voice, muffled into his sweatshirt. “You were dead,” Jack manages. “You, Sam, Castiel… everyone I love was dead and… I couldn’t bring you back. I couldn’t do anything.” There’s a wetness slowly spreading across his shoulder and it takes him a second to realize that Jack is crying. “There was so much blood…”

“Okay, alright,” Dean whispers, tightening his hold on the kid, noticing how his chest is heaving as he cries. He’s about to pass out. “Jack, you have to breathe for me. Okay? Come on, just take it slow. You’re alright.”

Jack sobs, pressing his face further into Dean’s neck, and he’s still shaking so hard that Dean’s afraid he’s gonna fall out of the hammock, even with how tightly he’s holding him. Despite Jack’s entire body on top of him, he still somehow finds a way to stick one leg out and start rocking the hammock back and forth slowly, keeping his breathing deep and slow, hoping Jack will subconsciously start to mimic him and calm down.

“You’re okay,” Dean murmurs into his hair. “It was just a nightmare, alright? I’m right here and Sam and Cas will be home tonight. It was a small hunt, just a milk run. Nothing to worry about.”

“You died,” Jack says again. His voice is wrecked but luckily his breathing is starting to get at least kind of back to normal. “You all died! Nightmare or not, it was so real and you… you were gone.” A few hot tears drop onto Dean’s neck and he exhales slowly, running his hand through the kid’s hair.

“I’m not asking you to just forget about it, because I know you can’t,” Dean says quietly. “But we’re all still here. I promise you, and when Sam and Cas come home tonight they can tell you the same thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers after a few minutes, finally pulling back a bit. He rests his hand on Dean’s chest, right over his heart, and his eyes slide shut, feeling the comforting thudthudthud under his palm.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for, you hear me?” For a split second Jack reminds him so much of Sam - apologizing for every damn thing even when it’s not his fault. Putting all the blame on himself. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jack shakes his head, still not opening his eyes. “It was stupid, coming out here,” he sighs. “Even if you weren’t out here… I should’ve been able to cope with it.”

“You are coping with it,” Dean argues. “If this is what you needed to calm down, that’s okay.”

The kid sits up then, against the other side of the hammock, staring at Dean in confusion. “Even this?” he asks, shocked. “Dean, I--”

“You’re a kid. Alright? Doesn’t matter how old you look, or what you’ve been through. You’re a fucking kid and if you need this kind of comfort to calm down after that kind of nightmare then don’t you dare be ashamed of it.”

There’s still apprehension in Jack’s eyes and Dean can read it clearly - he’s usually not scared to ask for this kind of comfort, not when he goes to Sam or Cas. But going to Dean, who’s generally against any kind of physical affection, is a whole other story.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. Finally he murmurs, “You don’t have to be scared of me. I know that you are, especially with this kinda thing. But just because I’m not the best at it doesn’t mean I won’t do what I can to help you. I know Sam’s so much better at this, and he’s only had a year of practice - I damn near raised the kid and yet I still don’t know how to talk to you about anything that’s not a hunt.” He tilts his head back and closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, Jack looks close to tears and he swallows hard against a sudden, unwelcome wave of emotion that passes over him. “But I’m trying.”

Silence stretches between them and a knot starts to form in Dean’s stomach - there’s a reason he tries to avoid these kind of heart-to-hearts - but after a few minutes Jack looks out at the view and asks, “Did Sam used to do this?”

The question makes Dean chuckle slightly. “All the damn time,” he says. “Even when we had separate rooms growing up he’d always sneak into mine in the middle of the night. I used to think it annoyed me, but when he ran off to Stanford I found out that I actually missed it. And he still does it sometimes, actually.” A smile tugs at his lips and he looks away for a moment. “Guess some things never change.”

Jack smiles. “That’s sweet, that he still comes to you.”

Dean doesn’t know how to respond. He wouldn’t necessarily call it “sweet,” but he doesn’t know another word for it. Maybe it’s just what they’re used to. Maybe, with everything that’s changed, they need this bit of familiarity to stay the same. That when Sam is scared, or sick, or lonely, he goes straight to Dean, and Dean welcomes him with open arms, every single time.

Dean remembers when they were still in high school and fought tooth and nail against the need to be near each other whenever something bad happened. Now here they are, after all this time has passed, after multiple deaths and the Apocalypse and the Cage and angels and demons, they’re not ashamed of it anymore. They both need this, and slowly, they’re both learning to let their walls down.

“Jack,” Dean says finally, and the kid turns to look at him, the light shining across his face, making him look as young as he is. “You can always come to me. No matter what. Whether you want to talk, or watch TV, or just curl up like this, you can. And I’ll be there.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Even if I want to watch The Office?”

Dean rolls his eyes so hard it’s almost comical. The Office is Jack’s newest obsession and Dean can’t stand it - the dry “humor” makes him want to slam his head through a wall. But he pushes down the annoyance and says, “Even if you want to watch The Office. And I won’t say a word.”

Jack grins and, without warning, flops forward against Dean. The older Winchester lets out a yelp of surprise and Jack laughs, pressing his face into the warm fabric of Dean’s ratty old sweatshirt. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his arms winding around Dean’s neck.

Smiling, Dean hugs him back, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Anytime, kiddo.”

\--

When Sam and Cas come back later that day, a little bruised but otherwise fine, they find Dean and Jack curled up in a hammock in a small secluded area behind the bunker, both asleep. Jack is wrapped in Dean’s arms, looking so impossibly small, but even in sleep they’re both smiling slightly, looking peaceful.

Sam snaps a picture and he and Cas head back inside before they wake up. That night, Dean finds a picture of he and Jack asleep in the hammock on his dresser with the caption, “dad + son.”

Dean smiles sheepishly and tucks the photo into his wallet. Maybe he is pretty good at this “dad” thing, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy fuck, so, I've never published a fanfic before, and this is just straight rambling that came to me after that disastrous episode last week that I thought turned out okay. Please leave a review!!!


End file.
